The Trouble with Anna

Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

T HE SMALL GROUP ON THE racetrack turned their heads in unison, and the crowd shifted or took to tiptoe to see what was distracting the racers. There was a collective gasp as the phaeton swept into view and the crowd caught sight of the late arrival.

The quiet held as Julian pulled up, tossed the reins to his groom, and retrieved an awkward package, as long as a lance and draped in black, lying across the phaeton’s floor. He tucked it under his arm and cut a line toward the track.

The crowd parted for him like a flock of sparrows around a hawk.

Something wondrous occurred to Charlotte and she gripped Marby’s shoulder so hard he squeaked. “Oh no, my brother’s here!” Charlotte turned and faced the crowd, yelling as loud as she could manage. “ The race shall have to be canceled! ”

Heads swiveled toward Charlotte and instantly back to catch Julian’s reaction, but the hush of expectation had no effect on the Earl. He reached the fence, planted the bottom of the package in the dirt, and vaulted casually into a prime seat that cleared instantly for him on the rail.

Only then did Julian take stock of the scene. His gaze swiveled out over the crowd, lingering on Mr. Frith’s landau where the Dowager Countess had slunk down in a vague attempt to hide behind the brim of Lady Cardiff’s enormous pink hat, before he turned toward the figures on the track.

The breath whooshed out of Anna as Julian’s eyes, unfathomable at the distance, found hers. Anna didn’t move so much as a muscle, but something sharp flared in her stomach. Was it hope? Was it dread? All she knew was that she couldn’t stand the waiting.

“WELL?” she demanded, calling into the silence when no one else dared. “Does your lordship have something to say?”

Julian hoisted up the long, strange package, lifted it to his shoulder, and pulled the black cover away. Silk spilled down from a polished pole and a tangle of white and scarlet caught the breeze.

Charlotte gasped, but Anna lost her breath entirely.

The Barton racing colors—her racing colors—blazed proudly across the sky.

Julian’s voice boomed out over the track. “Ride like hell, my lady. I’ve come to watch you win.”

The crowd erupted, but Anna didn’t have time for astonishment. She didn’t have time for the vast storm that rose in her, crackling with power.

“You heard him,” she said to Marby with a coolness she didn’t feel. “Let’s race.”

“Yes, very good!” Marby scrambled for his pocket watch. “If both parties are ready?”

“After you, my lady,” Hartley said.

“William, remember!” Anna called. “Call the pace at the mile mark.”

The groom nodded.

Anna felt Julian’s gaze from the stands as she gathered her reins and urged Archer to the starting line. His eyes did not leave her.

Archer, beauty that he was, stood proud and easy in the inside position, his ears alert and his muscles quivering. Eclipse had to be coaxed to the start, and Anna could hear the heavy clomp of his big, saucer feet coming up behind her. She closed her eyes, said a prayer of forgiveness, and very deliberately backed Archer up. His rump hit Eclipse on the nose, and Eclipse skittered backward, his tail swishing.

“Pardon,” Anna said to Lord Hartley, who looked so astounded that her nose twitched.

He certainly has been away from the track awhile.

Anna clicked Archer to the line again and Eclipse lunged up next to them. His ears were flat against his head and his eyes rolled toward Archer. An angry horse, made even angrier. And soon to be pushed into outright fury, if Anna had anything to do with it.

Please! she prayed silently with the empty track before her, not sure what she was asking or from whom.

No answer came.

Right. Best get on with it.

From his post at the rail, Byrne raised his pistol to the sky.

“Ready?” he called.

Anna crossed her reins tight and pushed into her stirrups.

“Set!”

She took one last suck of air and held it.

“GO!”

At the crack of the pistol Anna was off, leaping from the line into a flat gallop. Archer’s tail whipped out behind him and Anna prayed Eclipse got a flank full of it, but she couldn’t spare a glance over her shoulder to check.

Everything depended on how they got out, how fast and how cleanly Archer could hit pace.

Anna crouched low behind Archer’s neck and they sliced through the wind. His stride lengthened, but he held back, not used to being asked for so much so early.

Faster , Anna urged, her heart in her throat. She gave him a tap with her crop, and he shot forward in a joyous spurt, the track streaking beneath them. Anna tucked down even lower as Archer opened up.

Six strides out and Archer was flying. Anna chanced a tight look over her shoulder.

Eclipse was well behind them. Hartley, as expected, was using all his skill and strength to hold Eclipse off the blistering pace she’d set. It was madness to go this fast, this early in a race.

It was madness, but it was her only hope.

That’s right , she urged Hartley. Hold him back. Let him taste second place and let’s see how he likes it.

The crowd at the rails was screaming, but Anna could barely hear it over the pounding of Archer’s hooves. She concentrated on staying low and light, riding a lightning bolt balanced on the balls of her feet.

Faster , she urged, throwing her hands out in front of her with each thrust of Archer’s neck as he sped onward.

They charged past the half-mile mark, and Anna risked another glance over her shoulder. Hartley was still holding Eclipse and she could see the horse hated it. He struggled for the bit, burning energy by the second.

She could only hope he burned enough.

Anna whipped her head back around, calculating madly. Archer was running like a dream, but did she dare push him? How long could he bear this pace?

A little more , she urged the horse, just a little more.

They flashed past the starting line.

One lap down, one lap to go.

“ONE MINUTE FORTY-FIVE SECONDS!” William yelled.

Anna caught the numbers over the howls in the stands, but they couldn’t possibly be right. One minute forty-five seconds for the first mile?

That was flying, not racing.

Damn. Damn! They were on pace to beat Archer’s fastest time ever.

Of all the stupid, reckless—

She’d asked too much from Archer and half the race was still ahead of them. There was no point in harassing Eclipse if Archer had nothing left for the final push.

Anna gripped the reins hard to keep herself from screaming. Each stride jolted through her bones, each second ticked closer to defeat. All Hartley had to do was hold pace and wait while Archer blew himself out, and Eclipse would streak past them to the finish line.

A flicker over Anna’s right shoulder told her something had changed. She kept her body loose and her eyes on her line, but she could feel strength building beside her. Her blood quickened.

Hartley had made his move. Early, much too early!

Eclipse churned up toward her with the power and speed of a rockslide. Archer’s pace was brutal but Eclipse showed no signs he felt it. The great horse slid up tight beside them to make them acknowledge his dominance.

That’s right. Bring your tricks, my boy .

When Eclipse was up on Archer’s shoulder, Anna took her chance. She nudged Archer into the other horse, forcing Eclipse to go wide. There was barely any contact, but Eclipse always ran out front. He had no experience with the gutter tactics of the pack.

Eclipse tucked his haunches underneath him and launched forward in a scorching burst of speed. Anna’s heart leapt into her throat as he pulled ahead and away.

Run! Run your legs off!

She could only hope the pressure, the sustained pace, and the four stone—more than fifty extra pounds of weight!—would tire him out. She could only hope Eclipse burned through his last reserves before she ran out of track.

Ten seconds ticked by and Archer was flagging, she could feel it. It took every ounce of discipline not to ask more from him.

She could do nothing but marvel at the horse in front of her, widening the lead with each easy stride. Her legs burned, her arms felt as if they might fly out of their sockets, and still the great horse ran.

The last quarter mile.

Eclipse was ahead by two and a half lengths, with very little race left to run.

Anna held her position, searching for any opening, knowing it was too late, knowing there was none.

A howl rose up inside her and pushed her forward, lighter in the saddle, faster over the ground. It was the best race she’d ever run, and she was going to lose.

Then she saw it.

Anna squinted into the wind, her instincts lighting up like bonfires.

She was two lengths back and Archer was almost done. But Eclipse was tiring too. There was a slight, unmistakable flagging in front of her. Not of speed, but of form.

Anna calculated madly. The wild card was those fifty extra pounds. Eclipse was a champion and she’d treated him the whole race like a hack. The horse was angry and confused—would he have the heart to face a challenge now? Did Archer have anything left to give?

Only one way to find out.

Anna sent a prayer to the magnificent horse beneath her. She gave him a tap with the crop and thrust her hands forward, asking for everything he had left, the last drop within.

Archer’s front legs reached farther, his back legs pushed harder, and he ran with his whole, glorious heart.

They gained, but slowly, so slowly, like the grinding of teeth.

It’s not enough , Anna despaired.

The crowd disagreed. They screamed in approval at Archer’s challenge, and the noise gave him one last shot of strength as they bolted for the finish line. They were gaining now, truly gaining.

“YES!” Anna screamed. “Run, Archer. RUN!”

Anna’s arms worked like pistons, her thighs screamed in pain, and still Archer ran, charging up the last few lengths, charging up to Eclipse’s sweating haunches, his stomach, his lathered shoulder, so close that Anna and Hartley were locked together as they careened over the finish line and—

Anna didn’t know, she couldn’t tell. Her chest heaved in and out like bellows and her head sank low as they slowed for the cooldown.

The crowd roared on and on, but the rolling thunder was drowned by the rush of blood in her ears. She closed her eyes, absorbing the slow rock of Archer’s canter, and began to cry.

She cried for herself. She cried for Archer. She cried for the perfect race, which she had trained for and fought for and chased so long. She cried for her grandfather, who couldn’t see it. She cried for Julian, who saw her completely and had given her the last jolt of courage she needed.

Win or lose, she and Archer had done it. They’d gone up against the horse of the century. Win or lose, they’d raced like champions.

“That was victory ,” she whispered to Archer. “No matter what happens, hold on to that run.”

Anna clutched the feeling and held it tight as Archer dropped into a jog, and all through the cooldown lap, until at last she was ready to turn him back and face the screaming crowd.

A mass of people awaited them.

Charlotte ripped off her bonnet and tossed it into the air with much enthusiasm and very little accuracy. It landed on Marby’s shoulder, although he didn’t notice, as he was hopping around like a drunken rabbit. The Dowager was on her feet in the landau, a precarious position she maintained only by a death grip on Mr. Frith’s top hat. Everyone who wasn’t yelling at Anna or Hartley seemed to be yelling at Byrne and Locke, who were huddled together and whispering furiously.

But where was Julian? The crowd frothed and boiled, blocking Anna’s view.

Hartley trotted up next to her.

“Marvelous race! By god, I’ve never seen the like, let alone ridden in it!” His brow furrowed. “Though could it—Lady Anna, it pains me to suggest, but did you perhaps lose control of Archer, or did you bump my horse—?”

“On purpose?” Anna dragged her gaze away from the crowd and squinted up at him. “Did I have a choice, my lord, when you forced me to race against a ringer?”

Hartley looked astonished for a moment, but soon enough he laughed. “I believe you were the ringer today, my lady. I’ve been rooked! At least, I think I have. They’re taking their damned time calling the results.”

Anna gave a curt nod. She’d lost, hadn’t she? Even Archer’s huge heart, her tricks, and Hartley’s mistakes were not enough to prevail over a horse like Eclipse. They’d been so close at the end, but surely not even Hartley’s extra weight—

Byrne and Locke stepped apart at last, and four hundred heads snapped toward them. Byrne took one final, harassed glance at Locke, who threw his hands up with the hunted look of a man who wanted to make clear that nothing was his fault and he wanted no part of it.

Anna leaned over toward Hartley, as Byrne waited for the crowd to settle. “It’s yours. It was yours from the beginning. I’ve never seen a horse to match him.”

Byrne raised his hand for quiet and drew in a deep breath.

“THE WINNER IS—”